


Like Real People Do

by TeaBagginsFromtheOak



Series: Apartment 195 [10]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Important chapter, M/M, Not a fluffy chapter, Plot devolopment, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7599151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaBagginsFromtheOak/pseuds/TeaBagginsFromtheOak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.' Lucius Annaeus Seneca</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Real People Do

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is not a happy chapter but it had to be done. The next one will be for sure though.

It was bound to happen at some point, Bilbo couldn’t shelter the boy anymore then he knew was good for him, but it didn’t make this any easier. In any given circumstances besides this Frodo would look dashing and the image of a respectable young boy, but right now it merely reminded Bilbo of the loss this small human has already endured without even understanding a large majority of the world. Bilbo kneeled down in front of Frodo, whom was being rather straight faced about the entire ordeal, and fixed his tiny bow tie that Thorin had attempted to show the toddler, but whose concentration was lost when Bilbo came into the room trying to decide which suit would be better fitted for this event.

After his own parents at a young age, Bilbo had been very adamant to avoid funerals. Not for any disrespect to the departed, but for Bilbo’s personal preference. Thorin stepped out of the room after finally finishing his hair. Bilbo stood up, leaving his hand down for Frodo to grab. The small boy acknowledged his Uncle’s gesture, yet marched forward to Thorin. Frodo held out his hand and Thorin took it. Bilbo ignored the slight stab of pain and focused on the fondness that he had for the scene. Thorin gave him an expectant look and they all headed downstairs to Bilbo’s car. Once Frodo was properly strapped in – Bilbo checking the fastenings for good measure – they began the trip to the funeral home.

It was decided that because of the cause of death there would be a closed casket for both Drogo and Primula. The day was nothing spectacular. No rain, no clouds over head, no extreme burst of heat despite the oncoming winter season. It was just a day as the world turned on the same axis at the same rate across the same sun as it has for millions of billions of years. It made everything sound very small and claustrophobic as Bilbo pulled out of traffic and into the parking lot of the funeral home. Nothing was said the whole ride; despite Frodo’s solemnity there wasn’t much sadness. Bilbo didn’t know if it was shock or realization hadn’t hit the child.

Thorin took care of Frodo as Bilbo signed in on the registry. The minister was there even though neither Primula nor Drogo were very religious. Bilbo thought it would help those of the family that were. A majority of the Baggins’ Family was located in the west. Only a scarce few had interspersed themselves into other regions, Bilbo being one of them. Now, all that could afford the travel were grouped together in the pews and the friends of Primula and Drogo were smattered between.  Bilbo picked up Frodo and held Thorin’s hand, winding through the crowd to sit next to the only family Bilbo could tolerate. He ignored the judgmental glances from his relatives while at the same time Frodo seemed oblivious to the pitying glances that were passed his way. Bilbo made room for the three of them next to the Gamgees, good family friends for many years. They had a newborn, Sam, who was fast asleep in his mother’s arms.

Bilbo struck up friendly conversation as everyone slowly arrived and the funeral began. The minister was a good minister. Bilbo knew of him and the good words that had been spread about his name when he would occasionally lend an ear to a conversation his customers were having. Bilbo didn’t know one thing about directing a funeral, so when the minister offered to do it for him Bilbo was grateful. Between taking care of Frodo and running the tea shop Bilbo didn’t think he would have ever finished this and had it look so professional. A few family members walked up to say some words about the deceased. Bilbo took deep breaths to avoid crying. A girl no older then Primula finally took the microphone. It was probably good she wasn’t wearing any make up or it would have been streaming down her face. Still with silent tears she managed to speak her mind. She stood for the whole time until her legs gave out and a new bought of tears were wrought with it. Either friends or family came to help her back to her seat.

By the end of the ceremony, Bilbo was shedding silent tears and Frodo seemed solemn. Although everyone looked for either Bilbo or Frodo to speak about the departed, neither did. Thorin was rubbing soothing circles on Bilbo’s back and kissing the side of his head. Bilbo took deep breaths to compose himself and stood up, holding his hand out to Frodo. Frodo grabbed it and gave Bilbo a wide smile. Bilbo returned it and they made their way to the car where the procession was already starting. The hearse led its way through town and to the cemetery that the minister thought would be best suited for the couple. It was vast and beautiful in the macabre sense. The way embers from a forest fire light up the night. It was full of weeping willows and green grass. The willows provided ample shade as the procession marched through the many tombstones.

They took a little longer than the rest of the group, for the simple reason that Frodo would become fascinated with a tombstone or a grave marker and he would look at it – his ability to read was limited – until he dictated that a whatever time was long enough and he would move on.  Bilbo could only imagine the kind of thoughts running through the boys head. Thorin and Bilbo always waited patiently, giving Frodo fond looks as they stood side by side behind the toddler. A wind picked up and Bilbo hugged his frame as the breeze chilled his bones. Everyone was seated by the time they reached the burial site. No one said anything as the three of them took their seats in the front. After a minute of the minister speaking they began to sing a hymn, once Bilbo whispered under his breath, but heard Thorin sing with beautiful vocals. He wondered how he could have kept that hidden for so long. He even heard Frodo humming along.

They began to lower the casket – Primula and Drogo both decided that they would be buried together – and Bilbo could feel the tears begin to choke him. When the casket was just below the dirt, Frodo ran forward and Bilbo could feel his heart leap out of his chest.

“Frodo!” He yelled, but Frodo stopped just before going into the grave. Bilbo wasn’t positive, but he thought he heard Frodo speaking, at least whispering, but he was too afraid to startle the boy and have him fall in. It was like everyone held their breath while they waited to see what Frodo was going to do. Bilbo could feel his heart racing and his breath come in quick gasps. Once the device finished lowering the casket into the grave Frodo walked back to Bilbo and climbed up on his lap. He looked much older than a child of nearly three. Frodo gave a small smile and curled up in Bilbo’s lap, his head resting on Bilbo’s chest. Bilbo looked over at Thorin who had the same frightened look in his eye. Frodo yawned and that seemed to calm the brewing storm behind Thorin’s eyes. Bilbo wanted to scold Frodo, but the toddler just watched his parents be lowered into a grave. He decided to see if he couldn’t talk to Frodo later and see if he could get anything out of the child. For now Frodo was starting to drift into a restful slumber and Bilbo didn’t want to risk losing that opportunity to speak privately with Thorin.


End file.
